


Creatures Of The Dark

by ShayDez13



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Clexa Halloween Week, F/F, Healer Clarke, Kidnapping, Medical Procedures, Short Story, Werewolf Lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 05:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12523620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShayDez13/pseuds/ShayDez13
Summary: A werewolf AU, where Lexa is a werewolf who needs the help of Clarke, a human to save the only healer in her pack.





	Creatures Of The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is a late entry for the creatures submission but I had to work the last few days and I didn't get a chance to upload sorry guys. Better late then never??? Anyways here's my werewolf short sotry, happy Clexa Halloween week as always kudos, comments and bookmarks and greatly appriciated and welcome.
> 
> Also trigger warning: there is kidnapping in this story and descriptions of medical procedures.
> 
> sorry for any mistakes and i hope you like it :)

Clarke pauses at the waters’ edge, its sandy banks giving way underneath her weight. It’s not the first time she’s felt the eyes of something prickling on the back of her neck and it’s not the first time she decides to ignore the instincts to turn around. Like a weary animal, Clarke waits as she scans the horizon, eyes peeled for any signs of movement just beneath the dense canopy of the forest. It’s close to midday and the heat from the sun causes the thin fabric of her clothes to stick to her back. She can feel the sweat gather on brow, the salt stinging her eyes. It’s not uncommon for her to venture so deep into the forest. The unexpected long winters means she needs to search elsewhere for all the right herbs and plants to fill her medicine shelf.

Something sounds behind her, a loud crack of branch or a stick underneath a heavy foot. Like lightning Clarke whirls herself around, hand gripping the hilt of the knife she always carries with her. It’s nothing Clarke decides after a few still moments, maybe an animal. Deer are known to be in these parts of the woods, though it does nothing to shake the sense of being watched.  
She gathers small amounts of cold water in the cups of her hand, relishing in it as she splashes it over her sweaty face. The taste of salt on her lips reminds her how parched she is, but she knows better than to drink water straight from the streams.

The sun burns her cheeks and Clarke almost regrets her decision to come out at this time of day. There are other animals apart from deer that claim these forests and though Clarke has only heard about them in stories, she doesn’t take the risk. That’s why she always travels with a large knife and only ventures out in the middle of the day. Another sound breaks the silence around her, this time distinctive enough to cause Clarke’s heart to pound furiously inside her chest. Without thought she draws the knife out and stand her ground as hooves pound against the soiled ground. It’s not the deer Clarke’s afraid of but what spooked them that has her cautious. _It’s time to go_ she tells herself.

 

Octavia is not thrilled upon learning about Clarke’s impromptu expedition. She reminds her that last week two hunters were found dead, bodies disembowelled beyond recognition.

“And they were armed with bows” Octavia tsk’s pointing at the flimsy knife on the wooden table.

“So the next time you need stiches you’ll take it without willow bark?” Octavia sighs loudly and Clarke knows she’s won this one.

“Next time I’m coming with you” he friend grumbles pulling at the leather straps of her weapons belt. It’s clunks heavily next to Clarke’s knife and she sees the point her friend is trying to make. “You maybe the best healer this village has, but even that can’t save you from what’s out there”.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day Clarke is travelling along the same narrow path that leads her to the forest edge. Octavia is already waiting for her and she shakes her head when she sees the large bow strung around her shoulders. Sometimes it’s weeks before she needs to return but the winter had been long and her supplies are running dangerously low.

It’s lunchtime when Octavia decides to make a small fire, she hadn’t needed her bow until she spotted some fish basking the shallow waters of a large stream. Clarke decides to gather up some cattails she’d spotted further down to eat with their fish and that’s when she sees it. Barely, in fact she almost stands right on top of it and wouldn’t have even noticed. She recognises it instantly and doesn’t hesitate to wave Octavia over who is quick to leave the half gutted fish at the waters’ edge.  
Octavia eyes narrow as she leans down to run her fingers through the indents in the damp silt as Clarke studies her nervously. She’s seen many tracks of all different kinds of animals, especially around river banks but tracking isn’t her strong suit so she lets Octavia take the lead on this one. The girls’ eyes widen and Clarke swears she catches a glimpse of fear. Suddenly all the hairs on the back of Clarke’s neck stand to attention.

“We should go” Octavia says through gritted teeth “It’s not fresh, maybe a couple of days but I don’t want to take any chances” Clarke agrees swallowing down the panic that floods her system with adrenaline.

They cross over the stream several times where it’s shallow enough to do so and Clarke suspects it’s a tactic to lose their scent.

“What was that back there?” Clarke huffs as she clutches her bag close to her body protecting it from the water. She sees the grind of Octavia’s jaw, the way her eyes survey their surroundings. Like a bird of prey, hawk eyes watching closely. “I’ve never see wolf tracks that big” Clarke notes as she struggles to keep up.

“Neither have I” Octavia says sternly as they scramble over moss covered rocks. Clarke heart beats heavily in her chest, subconsciously her feet pick up the pace and she’s right behind Octavia as they make a hasty exit.

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later Clarke sighs as she looks over the empty jars on her dining room table. She needs more Catnip to make her salve and Yarrow, both plentiful in the forest this time of year. It’ll be a costly mistake if she doesn’t harvest what she can now. There’s no telling when the snow will melt and she’ll get another chance, the days are already shortening and the nights bring frost. She still has a lot of harvesting to go before she’s ready for long winter so she grabs her knife and straps it securely to her hip.

 

It’s quiet and that should’ve ticked Clarke off that something wasn’t right. Usually the birds are singing and the sound of small animals scampering off welcomes her, but it’s silent like there’s nothing living here at all. She treks further making good ground, the twisted tree roots and loose rocky soil proving no challenge. She’d made this journey hundreds of times and knows her route like the back of her hand.

Clarke is hunched over, pulling up Ginseng and bagging the roots. They’ll need to dry out before she can use them but she may as well take some while she’s here. She’s on her fourth plant when she hears the claps of wings and it startles her into an upright position. A flock of black birds screeching loudly fly out of the canopy of the forest and soar high into the clear skies. She doesn’t think anything of it and continues walking.  
Her bag is half full by the time she decides to take a quick breather. She’s been walking for almost three hours and her feet ache and blister. She’s counting her stock, ticking off plants in her mind as she rummages through her bag when a cold chill runs down her spine. At first she thinks it’s just the sweat cooling on her back causing her to shiver. Then something draws her attention, a flash of colour, gone too quickly. Clarke rises to her feet, knife drawn and eyes peeled for any movement. Maybe it was nothing, a trick of the shadows, an animal perhaps. But she could’ve sworn it was as black as a starless night and larger than any animal she’s ever seen. Clarke’s blood boils hot as it travels down the length of her legs, preparing to run but fear has paralysed her. She draws in a shaky breath and that’s when she feels it. Eyes as cold as ice on the back of her head, they penetrate her like shards of glass. She swallows thickly, nervously as her knuckles turn white.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s dark when Clarke finally comes around, the cold damp earth pressing up against her face. She goes to sit up but the pain cutting into her wrists has her gasping for air and crumpling in on her herself. Eyes wide with panic Clarke tries to see through the dark shadows of the night, through mattered blood soaked hair she can only distinguish the silhouettes of the nearby trees. She’s still in the forest. Without the suns heat the temperature has plummeted, that combined with her cold sweat drenched clothes there’s no doubt she’ll freeze to death. She tries to sit up again and that’s when she notices the bindings wrapped tightly around both her hands and feet. The cordage cuts into her, staining them red with her blood and Clarke hisses through the sting.  
“Hello” she yells though her voice is strained and weak. “Is anyone there?” she yells again “Someone help me!” only the sound of the wind answers back, it rustles through the trees and brings with it a chill that’s almost as cold as ice.  
Clarke struggles against the restraints ignoring the fact that each time she pulls and wriggles the ropes cuts deeper into her flesh. Her heart beats so heavily that she can hear it ringing in her ears and that’s when she remembers her knife. Desperate fingers reach out only to discover it’s no longer there. Anger and frustration now flow through her veins, hot like fire as she struggles helplessly in the dirt. Her efforts are in vein and she tires quickly.

 

Hours pass or so she thinks, the cold numbing her body and mind to the point it’s almost impossible to keep her eyes open. It’s a mental battle to keep her toes and hands moving, hypothermia comes quickly, she’s seen it silently take many lives over the years. To fall asleep is a death sentence and Clarke is determined not to die.

Something stirs in the shadows of the trees, a rustle of bushes not brought on by the wind. Clarke freezes straining her eyes in hopes she make out something in the darkness.

“What do you want?” she spits when nothing comes forth “I know you’re there” it’s the same presences she’d felt before, eyes watching her from a distance. “You clearly want something or else you wouldn’t have kept me alive”.

Deep growls resonate around her, disorientating Clarke as she tries to pin point which direction their coming from. Her heart wedges it’s self in the back of her throat and she strains her eyes to see past trees. Three pairs of yellow beady eyes, almost human like stare back at her from afar, etching closer and closer. She holds her breath as three four legged figures appear, wolves larger than Clarke has ever seen. The whites of their teeth bared as they snarl, hackles raised and ears pressed up flat against their heads. Clarke’s blood turns cold fearing the inevitable as they draw nearer.

“Hod op (wait)” speaks a low commanding voice, a woman’s voice and Clarke cranes her neck to see if she can spot where it’s coming from. To her surprise all three wolves come to an abrupt halt, but still close enough that Clarke can see the blood red of their gums.

“What do you want?” Clarke asks again, shifting back slightly as the animals keep a trained eye on her. The voice mutters something that Clarke can’t quite decipher and she watches on in almost disbelief as all three wolves slowly retreat backwards. They slip back into the darkness, completely unseen, as if they were never there in the first place and Clarke wonders if she’d just hallucinated the whole thing.

“Who are you?”

“Teik em we (take her away)” too distracted by the wolves and stranger woman in front of her Clarke doesn’t hear the silent footsteps behind her.

“NO! Wait! – what do you want?” Clarke yells as an armoured man lunges out from the trees behind her then everything around her goes black once again. The hessian sack catches the cuts on her face and it smells bitter like stale blood and rotting meat. The stench stings her throat as hot tears pool in the corners of her eyes, Clarke wills herself not to gag.

Strong calloused hands press into her flesh with a bruising force as Clarke is pulled to her feet. She feels the slack in the binging around her feet and stumbles forwards when she’s pushed forcefully in the back. “Where are you taking me?” she demands only to be answered back with a low grunt. In a bid to gain an answer Clarke plants both feet on the ground, hands still restrained behind her back “I said, where are you taking me?”

“Sof op (quiet)” The man finally says keeping a tight hold and Clarke finds herself tripping over her own feet when he shoves her forwards once again.

“I don’t know what you’re saying” Clarke hisses “English, do you speak English?” she fights to break free, tries to pull away and when that fails she starts to thrash around. Blunt nails cut into the flesh of her arm, harsh enough to draw blood but she fights through the burn. “What do you want from me?” They’ve only managed to stagger forwards a few steps and it’s not until she feels the drag of a cold blade against her throat that Clarke stills.

“Move” he hisses just behind her ear. The blade presses in firmly and Clarke is certain it’s broken the skin. With a grind of her teeth she takes a relucent step forwards, trusting the man to navigate through the maze of half exposed tree roots and ankle breaking boulders. They walk for almost an hour, it’s slow and Clarke counts every step until they come to an abrupt stop. Her breaths are shallow and uneven, each time she inhales the blade catches a little bit more and it stings.

“Osir jos beda frag em op (we should just kill her)” the man mumbles behind her.

“What did you say?” Clarke yells turning her head to where she can hear the heavy footsteps of people around her.

“Nou, osir gaf fisa in!(no, we need a healer) ” there’s another low grunt before the boot of the man kicks Clarke in the back of her knees causing her to fall to the ground like a ton of bricks. Clarke can smell the thick smoke of a fire nearby and desperately craves it’s warmth but the man behind her keeps her pinned to the ground.

“Heda (commander)” he says in a clam tone “Ai nou wich em op (I don’t trust her)”

“Osir gaf in em sis au (we need her help)”

“Sha Heda (yes commander)” then suddenly the bag is ripped off Clarke’s head and the bright glow of the fire is enough to blind her momentarily. Through deep ragged breaths Clarke looks around, they’re in a small clearing and she can make out a dozen tents made out of animal hide and birch branches.

“What is your name?” the woman says as she steps into Clarke line of sight. She’s young, younger than Clarke would’ve assumed giving the authority she seems to possess. She stands tall and rigid, one hand resting careless on the hilt of a large sward strapped to her waist.

“What do you want from me?” Clarke asks through narrowed eyes as she watches the woman closely. She can’t be much older than Clarke herself but she there’s the air around her. Like a kind of intimidating sense of power and strength. Movement across the shadows of the fire draws Clarke attention away, three other figures dressed in similar armour, all adorning some kind of black war paint across their faces. She holds her breath as they draw nearer, scrutinising eyes lingering as they sniff the air around them. It’s very animalistic in the way their mouths turn up, snarling and growling as they draw closer, beady eyes like the ones that belonged to the wolves’ moments ago.

“What is your name?” Clarke eyes widen darting back to the woman standing right in front of her.

“Clarke” she says hesitantly.

“Baga (enemy)” one of the men hisses as he spits at the ground. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like at any moment he wouldn’t hesitate to slit Clarke’s throat open.

“Sof op (quiet)” the woman snarls and instantly the man bows his head, as if a silent apology which surprises Clarke.

“Teik em to Nyko (take her to Nyko)” the man pulls Clarke back to her feet and she catches the almost black eyes of the bearded man. He has a long keloid scar running down the side of his cheek, it’s red almost purple and inflamed and Clarke winces at how painful it must have been.  
She says nothing as she’s thrown to the ground. The inside of the tent is bare but Clarke notices it’s sectioned off. What lays beyond the drawn tent flap she doesn’t know.

“Leave us” the woman’s says as she comes barging through, the man nods once in a sign of respect before side glancing Clarke once more and then he leaves.

“You could at least untie me” Clarke says through gritted teeth, her voice riddled with distain. To her annoyance to woman remains silent, expression impassive. Clarke scoffs.

“You venture deep into these parts of the forest” the woman states blatantly ignoring Clarke’s request. Clarke watches her closely, sees the subtle clench of the woman’s jaw, the flare of her nostrils as she approaches.

“I told you my name, how about you tell me yours” she sees the woman contemplate it for a moment and she’s almost certain she won’t get a response.

“It’s Lexa”

“Lexa” Clarke repeats, testing how it sounds “what do you want from me?”  
Clarke watches as Lexa takes a step forward, her heart elevating in fears she might attack her but instead she walks straight past her and pulls the thin flap open. There’s only a few candles casting a dim glow but Clarke can make out a low sitting bed. It’s occupant laying motionless underneath a pile of blankets.

The healer side of Clarke kicks in as she raises on shaky legs.

“Is he dead?” she asks trying to catch the rise and fall of his chest but she can’t see anything beneath the blankets.

“He will be” Lexa says through a clenched jaw but there’s something in her voice. It catches and wavers slightly and Clarke’s curious to why.

“Who is he?” she takes another step closer causing Lexa to stiffen but she relaxes almost instantly when she realises Clarke’s only moving closer to gain a better look.

“Nyko, our healer” Lexa swallows thickly “he was attacked by a hunting party” this catches Clarke’s attention and her eyes widen with shock.

“Why would a hunting party hunt down another man?”

“Man have been hunting our kind for centuries” Lexa states sternly ignoring the wild look of confusion splayed across Clarke’s face. “We are not like you”

“Then what are you?” Clarke asks hesitantly though deep down she thinks she already knows. They’re stories written in old books, wives tales told to kids about the creatures that live in the deepest parts of the forest. She’d assumed they were fictional, that or extinct. Like the dragons, no one has seen one for centuries, assumed to have all died out.

“Yee Naaldlooshii (Skin-walkers)” Clarke’s breath catches in the back her throat, roaming eyes travel the length of Lexa’s body.

“You’re a werewolf?” Lexa nods once. It’s as if all the blood has just drained out of Clarke’s body, leaving her pale and cold. Parts of her don’t believe it but as she thinks back to the wolves, to their beady human like eyes and the way they had obeyed Lexa command, the odd animalistic behavior of the people in the camp it all seems to fit.

“So what do you want from me?” Clarke tries her best to keep her voice level, tries to push past the fear that’s spreading rapidly though her body.

“Nkyo is our only healer in the pack” Lexa says looking back at the motionless body “he cannot die”.

“You want me to save him?” once again Lexa gives her a curt nod.

“If you save him I will spare you”

“And if he dies?”

“Then I will use this blade to slit your throat” Lexa pulls away the material of her clothing to reveal the knife tucked into her belt. Clarke recognises it instantly, the work of one of the finest blacksmiths in the village, her father.

“I’m going to need medicine. Back in my house I have herbs and equipment, if I could just –”

“You’ll have everything you need right here” Lexa says sternly pointing to a large table where jars and medical supplies rest. It was a poor attempt and Clarke’s not surprised that Lexa saw straight through it. In defeat she lowers her head before turning her back to the tall woman.

“I’m going to need my hands”

 

* * *

 

Clarke steps across the threshold and the smell of infection and rot hits her nose. It’s sour and she can almost taste it on her tongue as she peels away the blanket. She pulls back the bandage and removes the Yarrow leaves to find a deep wound.

“He’s going to need stiches” Clarke says over her shoulder but it’s not that that worries her. It’s the black crust forming around the wound, the yellow puss that seeps through the flesh and the red swelling that tells her infection has already kicked in. He could be looking at sepsis and once the organs being to shut down there’s nothing Clarke can do.  
Looking up at the table Clarke sees a small mortar and a stone pestle. She looks back over to Lexa who remains as impassive as before, not even grimacing at the stench that hangs in the air or the blood soak bandage bundled up on the ground.

“I’m going to need boiling water and clean cloth”.

Clarke works tirelessly throughout the night. She begins by administering a mild sedative, brewed in a tea and spends a good hour cleaning away the wound to the best of her ability. She flushes it with sterile water and scrapes away the rot with a sharp blade.

“How long has he been like this?” Clarke asks as she mixes a salve together at the end of the table.

“Four days” Lexa says with her arms folded tightly across her chest.

The time comes when Clarke needs to stitch up his wound, she already fears he’s lost too much blood and she can’t wait any longer or else he might bleed to death.  
She moves aside when the large man who had held the blade to her throat comes barging in. He’s accompanied by another, a bald handsome looking man who looks roughly the same age as Lexa.

“I’m going to need you to hold him down” Clarke says unsure if they can understand her or not. They share a weary look before placing strong hands on the torso and arms of their healer.

“Hold him down, it’s going to hurt”. A low gut wrenching wail pushes past gritted teeth, Nyko’s eyes flying open, almost bulging out of their sockets. Their dark brown almost black and blood shot and she can see the shimmer of tears rolling down his cheeks. He splutters and hisses as Clarke pierces through his skin, it’s almost like pricing through thick leather which is a good sign. She’s pretty confident that means the infection hasn’t begun rotting away the surrounding flesh and she hopes that maybe she’s caught it just in time. Now it’s the fear of physical exertion that might kill him. Send his body into shock and stop his heart. Clarke hopes it doesn’t happen as he begins to subconsciously fight her off.

“You need to calm him down” Clarke hisses as a hand come up and slaps hers away. “Keep him calm!”

 

 

* * *

 

The sun is beginning to rise by the time Clarke has almost finished, she fights off a yawn but her eye lids grow heavier by the second.

“Once I apply this there’s nothing else to do but wait” Clarke says nervously clutching the mortar tightly in her hands. “If the infection has spread to his blood, he will not wake” Clarke shifts under the scrutinizing glare Lexa casts over her.

“For your sake, you better hope he does”

Clarke is left in the small entrance of the tent though she is not alone. She uses some of the left over water to wash away the dried dirt and blood that marks her face.

“What’s your name?” Clarke asks the young guard left behind to watch over her. She’s not surprised when she doesn’t get an answer. “I’m Clarke”. He grunts which indicates that he at least understands her. “You leader, Lexa”

“Heda (commander)” he mumbles eyes narrowing as he looks Clarke up and down.

“Heda, she seems young” another grunt “It just doesn’t seem very desirable for a leader”  
This seems to aggravate the man and he turns abruptly to face Clarke, though his voice remains calm as he sternly says.

“You have not seen Heda, she is fierce and ruthless that is why she makes a good commander”

“Lincoln” both of them whip their heads around to see a woman standing in the entrance. She’s tall with short black hair and like many of them she also has scars across her face. “Ai gaf chich yu (I need to talk to you)”  
Clarke is left alone but she can still hear the mumbled voice of the two people just outside the tent. Minutes later Lincoln returns and Clarke notices the leaf in his hand.

“Heda says you need your strength” he shoves the leaf into Clarke face and she can smell the cooked meat instantly. Her mouth waters but she’s cautious and she knows better not to trust her captors.

“How do I know you haven’t poisoned it?” Clarke swears she sees a subtle eye roll and she watches intently as he unrolls the leaf exposing a piece of charred juicy meat. It almost hurts watching him take a piece. She’s so hungry she could eat it all plus another just like it and when Lincoln offers it back to her she snatches it right out of his hands.

 

* * *

 

Night falls quickly, Clarke sleeps through most of the day even though she wills herself to stay awake. With a full stomach it’s almost impossible and she’s surprised that she wakes up at all. She peers around the room through half opened eye lids and is surprised to see Lincoln has left and Lexa has taken his position.

“So you didn’t kill me” Clarke says voice still heavy with sleep.

“Not yet, no” Lexa replies bluntly. She looks different without the dark war pain framing her eyes, youthful. Clarke examines her features closely, maps out the sharp lines of her jaw, the bridge of her nose and the height of her cheek bones. She’s beautiful.

“Has Nyko woken yet?” Clarke asks diverting her eyes back down the floor.

“No” Clarke’s heart plummets as she begins to sweat nervously. She’s running out of time and she knows it, the longer Nyko sleeps the less chance that he’ll ever wake up.

“I need to see him”

He still has a fever but when Clarke removes the salve she’s pleased to see some of the swelling has gone down. She checks for bruising and any indication of internal bleeding, none, that’s good.

“He’s pulse is weak but he still has one” Clarke states as she counts the beats in her head. It could be that he’s just exhausted, the ordeal of yesterday’s procedure and the sedative keeping him asleep or it could be because he’s dying, only time will tell and with each passing hours Clarke becomes restless.

 

* * *

 

“How many of you are there?” Clarke asks as she takes a step outside the tent, she sighs as a gentle breeze kisses her cheeks.

“A few hundred spread out in small packs”

“And how many in yours?” Clarke asks as she looks at the people around her suspiciously.

“Twelve”

“They don’t like that I’m here” Clarke notes as eyes watch her from across the camp. They keep their distance but Clarke can feel the tension brewing.

“Man cannot be trusted”

“But you can shift. I’ve seen the size of three wolves. You can easily take down a human”

“A few yes”  
“They hunted you didn’t they?” suddenly it dawns on Clarke “groups of hunters drove you deeper into the forest”

“Man fear what they cannot understand” there’s a twinge in Clarke’s heart as she watches Lexa speak and she notices the heaviness in her words. “First they cut down the forests, taking land for their fields. Then they ventured deeper in search of animals to hunt to last them the cold winters” Lexa gazes up and Clarke instinctively follows. She can see a few stars and the moon peaking out just behind the clouds. “Once they knew of our existence they came in numbers! Many of us were killed” Lexa swallows thickly and Clarke sees the obvious bob of her throat.

“So why not live amongst them, as humans?” there’s a shift in Lexa’s demeanour and Clarke fears she might have overstepped.

“We are what we are, the forest is our home”

“Heda” a breathless voice draws both women’s attention “Nyko’s awake” Lincoln says shooting Clarke a subtle look. Even she can’t believe it so she rushes back inside, Lexa close behind her.

She rushes to straight to Nyko’s side reaching out as weak arms struggle to hold his weight. He groans as he tries to pull out her hold but Lexa intervenes before things get out of control.

“It’s okay, you can trust her. Em kep klin yu sonraun (she saved your life)” the man hesitates for a moment before Clarke sees him relax.  
Nervously Clarke makes her way over to the table, she's careful to pour some tea and hands it over. “Willow bark to help with the inflammation” Clarke says quietly as she hands over the small cup. She returns back to the table carrying a bowl full of sap like residue. The man flinches when she goes to lift up the blanket “Witch Hazel to reduce the swelling and heal the wound” she says offering up the substance. The man takes a quick sniff before he grunts and Clarke takes it as form of consent. She rubs it in gently leaving enough to soak through over time.

“He’s still weak” Clarke says as she rises to her feet wiping her hands off on a dirty cloth. “But he should recover”.

“You have held up your end of the deal” Lexa says with her head held high “But” Clarke’s heart slams against her chest, was she really that foolish to believe she might survive at the end of this? “I cannot guarantee your safety once you leave this camp”

“Lexa we had a deal” Clarke hisses through clenched teeth.

“The deal was if Nyko lives then you live, I will not kill you but I can’t promise that the others won’t”. Anger twists in the pit of Clarke’s stomach as she clenches her fits into balls beside her.

“I’ll take my chances” she hisses holding out her hand for the knife she knows Lexa still carries with her. Lexa hands it to her with some reluctance to let go and for the first time something flashes in her green eyes. Like she’s about to say something but it’s gone before Clarke can think too much about. Angry, she ignores the look and storms out of the tent.

 

 

* * *

 

It’s so dark Clarke can barely keep her bearings, everything looks the same and she fears she’s lost. She has no idea where she is or which way her village is but her feet keep moving forwards. She had sensed the eyes on her the moment she’d left the camp and any moment she’s expecting an attack. She grips the knife tightly in her hands though she now knows it’ll do her no good if a werewolf does attack her. Still she holds onto it for peace of mind as she weaves her way through the maze of trees.

There’s a loud rustle in the bushes about twenty meters alongside of her and Clarke freeze momentarily. She waits a few moments but then decides to slowly venture off away from it, putting it behind her. Stopping isn’t an option when she hears another loud crack of a branch. The only thing she knows is not to walk straight into the mouth of her predator, so once again she veers off putting as much distance between the noises and herself. Clarke walks for hours, exhausted and sore but she presses on too scared to stop. Something is following her, she sense it, can feels those eyes on the back of her and as the hours pass Clarke can’t believe she’s still alive. It’s a tortuous game of cat and mouse but there is nothing else she can do. She has no idea if she’s headed the right way, she’s already changed her course five times and she can only pray that she’s not wandering around in circles or worse, deeper into the forest.

Suddenly the ordinary wolves and bears don’t seem to frighten her as much as they used to. When she thinks of sheer size of those werewolves, the brute strength of one claw could easily shred her to pieces in one swipe. Though there was something about Lexa that Clarke can’t shake. It must have been a big risk bringing Clarke into their camp still Lexa had done it to save one of her own. And letting her go? What if Clarke returns home and tells someone? She wouldn’t, but surely Lexa thought about that. Maybe she’d let her go because she knew Clarke would never make it home. Clarke shakes those though from her mind.

The sun is just beginning the kiss the horizon when Clarke recognises a patch of birch tree, she’s seen them before and hope builds in her chest. She’s close now, somehow, another twenty yards or so and she’ll be able to see the clearing and the small path that takes her back home. She picks up the pace completely forgetting about the beast that has been following her since the moment she step out of the camp.

Yellowy green eyes watch her from afar, stealthily hidden in the dark shadows of the fading darkness, pelt as black as a starless night. It keeps its distance weary of its surrounding, nose sniffing the air for something other than the sweet scent of the blonde girl. Eager to see her for perhaps the last time the wolf presses forwards snapping the a large dead branch underneath its heavy foot.

The loud crack echoes around Clarke and instantly she freezes, too scared to turn around and face whatever it is behind her. It’s big, she’d heard the heavy step and it wasn’t a twig that snapped. Closing her eyes she waits for the pain, the sharp slicing of claws and deep penetration of teeth but it never comes. Instead she turns around slowly, curious and confused.  
Clarke’s eyes meet the yellowy green eyes of a huge wolf, it stands even taller than the three she’d seen the other night. With the increasing daylight its jet black coat stands out but it’s the eyes that Clarke can’t look away from. She’s seen those eyes before, seen them surrounded by intimidating war paint atop high cheek bones.

“Lexa?” Clarke whispers but the animal only starts to withdraw back slowly, slipping back into the shadows, hidden amongst the trees and out of sight. Lexa had been following her the whole time and Clarke can’t help but wonder if Lexa’s the reason she made it to the outskirts of the forest, to the familiar path that leads her back home and not miles away from any village. That maybe she’s the reason why Clarke was never attacked during the night.

She exits the forest on shaky legs her body riddle with exhaustion but relieved to see the small dots of farmers out in their fields. Still Clarke looks back over her shoulder one last time but there’s nothing but the tall thick trunks of trees and shrubby bushes.


End file.
